In these two chapters, the Chronicler fawns some more over Solomon, his wisdom, and his wealth. It’s terribly dull. Awfully dull. However, this is the last set of chapters about the Super Awesome Mega Kings of Israel Who Are Awesome, and we’ll be getting into the histories on Monday. That should be a lot more fun.

We open with some miscellaneous constructions and expansions:

Solomon rebuilt the cities that King Huram gave him, which he then settled with Israelites. Of course, in 1 Kgs 9:10-14, it is Solomon who cedes the cities to King Hiram, not the other way around. In that passage, he did so either in direct exchange for goods, or in gratitude for Hiram’s business during the construction of the Temple. Here, not only is the direction of the gifting changed, but no reason is given. Many commentaries try to smooth the discrepancy over by arguing that Solomon had only given the cities to Hiram temporarily, perhaps as collateral until he could pay off all the goods Hiram was sending. That reads an awful lot into the text, however, since no such arrangement is described. In both passages, we learn of only a single trade, with the direction of that trade completely reversed.

I tend to believe that there are two separate agendas in I Kings and II Chronicles. I Kings is trying to explain why those cities came to be called Cabul, which is rather disparaging. The reason, in I Kings 9, goes back to Hiram’s dissatisfaction with those cities. II Chronicles 8, however, is presenting Huram as adoring and subordinating himself to Solomon, and thus giving Solomon cities. And Solomon rebuilding the cities and settling Israelites in them occurs within the context of his projects of expansion and building, which we read about in the subsequent verses.

We are told that Solomon conquered Hamath-zobah. The last time we heard from Hamath, their king was so happy that David had defeated King Hadadezer of Zobah that he sent his son to David with a load of gifts (2 Sam. 8:9-12, 1 Chron. 18:9-11). It was unclear whether the gifts were meant as a one-time show of gratitude or part of a more formal vassalage. One would hope that, whatever their arrangement, it was over before Solomon took sword to the region. Of course, this raises a second issue – the Chronicler seems to believe that Solomon was chosen to build the Temple because he was unbloodied (mentioned several times, such as 1 Chron. 22:7-10), yet here we see him conquering regions. Is it okay because he’s already finished the Temple?

The text tells us that Solomon built Tadmor in the wilderness. Commentaries seem to agree that the text should read “Tamar” instead, since it’s unlikely that Solomon would have been building anything in the region of Tadmor.

The text also tells us that he built several store-cities in Hamath, and that he built Upper and Lower Beth-horon (which were fortified cities), Baalath (though it is not explained why he was building towns with “Baal” in the name), plus more store-cities and special cities for his chariots and horsemen.

Of Slaves and Overseers

The Chronicler tells us that Solomon enslaved all the non-Israelites who still lived within his borders, and that their descendants are still enslaved “to this day” (2 Chron. 8:8). This a problem we’ve encountered before with the Chronicler, since he clearly doesn’t mean his own day. So is the phrase simply the product of careless copying from sources, or is there a point the Chronicler intended to make?

As in Kings, we are told that Solomon made no slaves from Israelites. It’s hard to see, however, how the distinctions might have been made, given that there were certainly intermarriages. Was there a “one drop” rule? Or were only parents of one gender taken into account?

Finally, we learn that Solomon appointed 250 chief officers to oversee the people, compared to 550 officers in 1 Kgs 9:23. This seems like an error, and likely is – the Chronicler frequently deviates from the numbers in Samuel and Kings. However, the New Bible Commentary points out that we arrive at the same total – 3,850 – by adding together 1 Kgs 5:16 and 1 Kgs 9:23, or by adding 2 Chron. 2:18 and 2 Chron. 8:10 (p.386). So are the Chronicler’s two figures in error and the sums a coincidence? Or did his source material organize the overseers differently from the author of Kings? Given the number of variants in Chronicles, I suspect that we’re more likely than not to find coincidences like this, especially if we start adding figures from difference places and otherwise manipulating them. We get into bibliomancy territory, where we’re bound to find some way to make the numbers work. But I could certainly be wrong.

Social Shuffling

Though the account of Solomon’s marriage to an Egyptian princess (1 Kgs 3:1) is omitted by the Chronicler, we do learn of her existence when he moves her into a house he’s built for her. References to her house can be found in 1 Kgs 7:8 and 1 Kgs 9:24, but the Chronicler adds an explanation for the move when Solomon declares: “My wife shall not live in the house of David king of Israel, for the places to which the ark of the Lord has come are holy” (2 Chron. 8:11). It’s not clear why he felt the need to add this explanation, but it comes off rather gross. I suppose the meaning is that she, as a foreigner, has no right to live so near the ark, but would this have applied to all foreigners? Or is the Chronicler trying to address Solomon’s adopting/tolerance of his wives’ religions by having him be so finicky that he won’t even let his foreign wife live near the ark?

In 2 Chron. 8:12-15, we learn that Solomon was in the habit of making offerings before the vestibule (altered from 1 Kgs 9:25, where Solomon made his sacrifices directly before God – like to avoid the appearance that this king played the priest). He did so on all the days required by Mosaic law (such as the Sabbaths and the annual feasts). According to David’s instructions, he appointed the Temple’s staff, “for so David the man of God had commanded” (2 Chron. 8:14).

The Queen of Sheba

2 Chron. 9 begins with a visit from the queen of Sheba, lifted from 1 Kgs 10:1-13. We are told that Solomon had a reputation for his great wisdom, so she came to test his reputation with hard questions. Solomon performed suitably, since “there was nothing hidden from Solomon which he could not explain to her” (2 Chron. 9:2). She is terribly impressed by his answers, by the house he’s built (though it’s unclear whether this refers to his palace or to the Temple), the food he serves, his court, and his sacrifices to God. She is so impressed, in fact, that “there was no more spirit in her” (2 Chron. 9:4).

The Queen of Sheba, by Isabella Colette

Unfortunately, these hard questions aren’t in any way preserved. It would have been very interesting to see them, as well as Solomon’s answers. Not only because it would give us the chance to see if he really did turn out to be right, but also because it would tell us what kinds of questions they were – philosophical? scientific? religious? all of the above?

In any case, the queen pronounces Solomon even wiser than his reputation, and that his wives and servants are quite lucky to have him.

She gives Solomon 120 talents of gold, plus a few other luxuries. In return, Solomon agrees to give the queen whatever she asks for (though her request, if any, is never told), and she returns home.

Solomon’s Wealth

There’s a bit in both 2 Chron.8 and 2 Chron. 9 about Solomon and Huram’s joint trading ventures to Ophir. In 2 Chron. 8:18, they manage to earn Solomon 450 talents of gold (compared to 420 talents in 1 Kgs 9:27-28). In 2 Chron. 9:10-11, they bring back gold, precious stones, and algum wood (which Solomon used to make steps for the Temple and instruments for the temple musicians).

2 Chron. 9:21 gives us another expedition with Huram, this time to Tarshish. It seems they went every three years to bring back gold, silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks.

We learn that Solomon made 666 talents of gold a year (an auspicious number!), in addition to what the traders brought. He also received tributes from many nations.

Solomon made 200 large shields of beaten gold, using 600 shekels of gold per shield, which were put in the House of the Forest of Lebanon. He also made himself an ivory throne, inlaid with gold. It had six steps, with a lion on either side of each step, and a golden footstool. There were standing lion armrests on either side.

His drinking cups were all made of gold, and all the kings of the earth sought out his wisdom (which must have been quite a swim for those in the Americas). All of them, of course, brought gifts. Solomon brought so much wealth into Jerusalem that “silver was not considered as anything in the days of Solomon” (2 Chron. 9:2), silver was as common as stone, and cedar as common as sycamore.

Solomon had 4,000 horse and chariot stalls. He had 12,000 horsemen, who were stationed in Jerusalem and in special chariot cities. He imported his horses from Egypt and elsewhere. In 2 Chron. 1:14-17, we were told that he had 1,400 chariots and 12,000 horses, and that his horses were imported from Egypt and Kue, then exported to the Hittites and Aramites. In 1 Kgs 4:26, he had 40,000 stalls of horses (used for chariots) and 12,000 horsemen.

Conclusion

The Chronicler’s “Further Reading” section includes three books we no longer have access to: the history of Nathan the prophet, the prophecy of Ahijah the Shilonite, and the visions of Iddo the seer (concerning Jeroboam son of Nebat).

Solomon reigned in Jerusalem for 40 years and, when he died, he was buried in the city of David. He was succeeded by his son, Rehoboam.

Closing up our account of Solomon, we can note that the Chronicler left out most of the less flattering accounts, such as pretty much all of 1 Kgs 11, as he had done with David. Let’s see how the other kings fare!

1 Chron. 17 is (almost) identical to 2 Samuel 7, in which David wishes to build a temple for God, but is told (via the prophet Nathan) that this job will be his son’s, instead. In both cases, the chapters conclude with David’s lengthy giving of thanks.

The story opens with David, his own palace completed, thinking that he might like to tackle a temple next. Being the godly king that he is, he first consults with his court prophet, Nathan. Good thing he did, too, because it turns out that God doesn’t want a temple – at least not from David:

For I have not dwelt in a house since the day I led up Israel to this day, but I have gone from tent to tent and from dwelling to dwelling. (1 Chron. 17:5)

In all that time, he continues, he has never asked any of the judges to build him a temple – underscoring that the idea is coming from David, and not from God. And yet, the idea seems to appearl to him, because he next declares that he will have a temple, only that it will be build by one of David’s sons, instead.

The word of God came to Nathan, by Charles Joseph Staniland

This is where we encounter the one significant difference between the two versions of the story: In 2 Sam. 7:14-15, God says of Solomon: “When he commits iniquity, I will chasten him with the rod of men, with the stripes of the sons of men; but I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from Saul whom I put away from before you.” Instead, 1 Chron. 17:13 skips right ahead to: “I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from him who was before you.”

The most obvious point, here, is that the Chronicler has erased all mention of Solomon doing wrong, while the author of Samuel acknowledges that Solomon will stumble, and that he will pay for it.

The second difference worth mentioning is that the Chronicler erases the name of Saul, even while he keeps the reference to him. He knows he has to mention Saul, but he clearly doesn’t like doing so. The Chronicler would much rather Saul had never existed.

In the second half of both chapters, David goes to God after Nathan has finished, and he makes a lengthy speech of thanks-giving and praise. He displays his humility (“Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that thou hast brought me thus far?” – 1 Chron. 17:16), and goes on and on in praise of God.

And with that, David is off the hook.

By the way, this chapter contains a fantastic pun on the word “house.” It is variously used to mean David’s palace, God’s temple, and David’s dynasty. In other words, David builds himself a house, so he wants to build God a house, so God builds him a house instead. It’s fabulous.

Because God is a god of nomads, meant to dwell only in a tabernacle or a tent rather than a permanent structure. This is supported by 2 Sam. 7:5-7 and 1 Chron. 17:4-6, but the obvious problem with this interpretation is that he will be housed in a temple later on.

David, a warrior, had shed too much blood in warfare, supported by 1 Chron. 22:8. Yet Pate asks the obvious question: Were these battles not sanctioned by God? Why, then, would they count against David? Though I feel that the objection ignores the decidedly unfair rules we’ve seen so many of regarding ritual purity, such as the prohibition on priests mourning the death of a wife or a married daughter (Lev. 21:1). The rules needn’t make sense or be fair when ritual is concerned, and it’s perfectly possible for David to be considered tainted by doing “the Lord’s work”.

David didn’t build the temple for a perfectly practical reason: He was too busy fighting Israel’s enemies. He didn’t have time to build a proper temple, one suitable for God. This is supported by 1 Kings 5:3, though makes little sense in the context of what God says through Nathan in these chapters. Still, Pate argues that this interpretation is implied in God’s statement, since “both of these chapters stress that God will bring Israel to a state of security, implying that it was not fully present when David wanted to build the Temple. And, sure enough, in subsequent chapters, David still has more wars to fight.”

God denied David the building of the temple in order to chastise him for coming up with the idea. If a temple is to be built, then it will be build in God’s time, not a king’s. So even though God liked David’s idea, he couldn’t reward him for having had it by letting him have the honour of executing it.

And, of course, there’s always the simplest and least-satisfying answer: Because he didn’t. This is a problem for a foundational king who has been mythologised as an archetype of godly monarchy by a culture that had had a temple for about 400 years. All the rest is post hoc theologising.

My personal headcanon explanation (which presumes historicity) is that we are witnessing a cultural evolution. Prior to David, we had a tribal and still somewhat nomadic (or, at least, rural and rural-focused) population. David himself was a shepherd and a bandit. Despite the claims of this chapter, it might never have occurred to him to take God out of his tent.

Solomon, on the other hand, was far more urban. He was born and raised in Israel’s capitol city of Jerusalem, in a more settled time. He would have been disconnected from the semi-nomadic lifestyle that his father might have grown up with. For him, a god who lives in a tent would have seemed odd, especially through exposure to surrounding cultures and their temples (the temples of Dagon built by the Philistines are mentioned a few times, for example). Perhaps the nomadic heritage would have seemed less important to him, and so he midwifed a transition to a more settled, urban-based variation of the YHWH cult. This, of course, evolved into the heavily centralized Deuteronomist cult (which was still fighting its rural variants).

In other words, Solomon’s building of the temple may simply be an expression of an urbanizing political landscape.

These two chapters follow 2 Sam. 5:11-25 and 2 Sam. 6:1-13 rather closely, though reversing their order.

David gets the idea to fetch the ark from Kiriath-jearim, where it’s been sitting in Abinadab’s house. It’s not mentioned here, but the ark had been captured by the Philistines in 1 Samuel 4, and was returned to the Israelites in 1 Samuel 6 after it had caused an idol of Dagon to fall and break, and caused an epidemic of some kind to spread through the cities of Philistia. Since then, it had been held by Abinadab.

But before David goes for the ark, he first asks the leaders of Israel for their agreement. It seems odd that David should ask permission like this, and I wonder if it’s an indication of how precarious his hold on Israel still was at that time. I see some commenters arguing that the ark was a sort of glue to bind all the tribes, and that bringing it to Jerusalem symbolically joined the Hebrew people in faith as well as politics. Yet the fact that no one seems to have bothered with it in years (as evidenced by David’s statement that the ark had been neglected in the time of Saul – 1 Chron. 13:3 – used by the Chronicler here as a subtle-ish indictment of Saul) adds to the evidence that the ark was part of a local, perhaps Shilonite, cult that David (assuming his historicity) made a part of the state religion. We might compare this to Constantine’s adoption of Christianity as the state religion in an effort to unite a disparate empire.

In any case, they fetch the ark and load it onto a new cart, with Uzzah and Ahio driving it while David and the other Israelites sing and play music in a procession ahead of it.

Unfortunately, the oxen stumble when the ark reaches the threshing floor of Chidon, causing the ark to wobble. When Uzzah puts out his hand to steady it, God kills him. (Incidentally, this happens at the threshing floor of Nacon in 2 Sam. 6:6, not Chidon.)

This freaked David out, and he decided not to bring the ark back to Jerusalem as he had originally intended. Instead, he takes it to the house of Obededom the Gittite, and leaves it there for three months. This worked out nicely for Obededom, however, since his household was blessed while the ark resided there.

The narrative ends here, leaving out (at least for now) the remainder of the ark’s journey to Jerusalem, during which David danced naked in the procession, angering his wife Michal (2 Sam. 6).

Settling In

The next portion, taken from 2 Sam. 5:11-16, is rather out of place in the Chronicler’s organization. Whereas in 2 Samuel, we have a summary of David’s life in Jerusalem placed after his conquest of the city, the narrative here is interrupted by the moving of the ark, disrupting the narrative flow.

First, David needs a house. For this, we have King Hiram of Tyre, who sends messengers to David along with cedar trees, masons, and carpenters to build him a palace. It is at this point that it apparently dawns on David that he really is, truly, king of Israel (1 Chron. 14:2, 2 Sam. 5:12).

We then learn of the children born to David in Jerusalem, which, oddly, corresponds better to 2 Sam. 5 than it does to the same list in 1 Chron. 3 (though isn’t identical to either version). The children are:

James Pate notes that the Chronicler, generally, tries to make David abide by the Torah (we’ll see an example of this later one when he burns some idols). This may be evidence of the cult’s evolution: “The Torah as a book probably existed more fully when I Chronicles was written than when II Samuel was written, and so the Chronicler conformed David’s actions to what was commonly believed to be God’s will in the Chronicler’s time: the Torah.”

Yet, here, David is said to take multiple wives, in direct contradiction to Deut. 17:17. The rule appears to be directly addressing Solomon, who, according to 1 Kings 11, was led into idolatry by his many wives. So why was David’s breaking of this rule allowed to slip by?

One obvious answer is that David’s multiple wives were known (certainly, we’ve seen separate stories for a few of his wives, namely Abigail, Bathsheba, and Michal), and erasing that common knowledge would have been impossible for the Chronicler. So the Chronicler simply lets the many wives slip through without commentary, perhaps hoping that no one will notice what it says about David’s relationship to the covenantal laws.

Another possibility is that the prohibition on many wives for a king wasn’t added until later on, or perhaps was added at around the same time as the Chronicler was writing and hadn’t achieved enough status to warrant addressing yet.

Fighting Philistines

Continuing the story from 2 Sam. 5:17-25, the Philistines hear that Israel has a new king and, worse yet, it’s David (who had so recently been in the employ of the Philistine king Achish). They decide to come after him (perhaps hoping to take advantage of the instability of a new king, particularly a new king of a new dynasty). But David finds out that they are coming, and he leads his army out to meet them.

The Philistines were raiding in the valley of Rephaim when David asked God if he should attack, if God will grant him victory. God responds in the affirmative to both questions, and David defeats the Philistines at Baal-perazim.

As the Philistines flee, they leave behind their religious idols. In the 2 Sam. 5:21 version, David and his men carry the idols away, implying that they will either put them to use (as the Danites carried off Micah’s idol in Judges 18), or perhaps melt them down for their valuable metals.

The implications appear to unsettle the Chronicler, who adds that David commanded the abandoned idols to be burned (which would be in accordance with Deut. 7:25). We can see, here, the Chronicler taking the opportunity of an ambiguity (it’s possible to accept that the Israelites of 2 Sam. 5 carried off the idols in order to burn them, if we squint and turn our heads to the side a bit) to clean David up, and bring him more in line with later theology.

Not quite sufficiently beaten, the Philistines come back to raid the valley. Again, David asks God what he should do. This time, however, God tells him not to attack right away. Instead, David should stow himself on the other side of some balsam trees, and only go out to fight when he hears the sound of marching over the tops of the trees, “for God has gone out before you to smite the army of the Philistines” (1 Chron. 14:15).

There are a couple of ways to interpret this. One is that the sound of marching over the tops of the trees is the sound of God’s heavenly army closing in to lead the charge.

Another is that this describes an ambush situation, where David is to hide behind some trees until he can hear the enemy’s marching – meaning that they are in the right position – before revealing his own position by attacking.

James Pate presents a third possibility: That the sound is actually the wind going through the trees, and that it would then mask the sound of David’s attack. This, again, would give David’s army the advantage of surprise.

In any case, David obeys and defeats the Philistines. After that, his fame spread, and all nations feared him.

Skipping straight from Saul’s death in the last chapter to David’s ascension as king, the Chronicler leaps right over the succession conflicts of 2 Samuel 2-4. In this narrative, David’s rise was effortless and conflict-less.

Right from the start, we see all of Israel congregating in Hebron to declare David as their new king. Repeating their speech almost verbatim from 2 Sam. 5:1-3, they reinforce David’s claim by saying that he had truly been the one leading them from the start, even while Saul was king in name. They make a covenant with David, and Samuel anoints him.

With all of Israel on his side, David turned toward Jerusalem. The Jebusites taunt David, saying that he will never enter his city. But then, wooops, he conquers it anyway. Parts of the story are copied word-for-word from 2 Sam. 5:6-10, except that all references to David’s hatred for people with physical disabilities are replaced by his vow to promote the first person to kill Jebusites (or perhaps to rush forward at the Jebusites) to the rank of chief and commander. This seems like a fairly awful way to pick leaders, given that leadership skills aren’t terribly correlated with “rush into battle and kill stuff” skills. I get that the point is to reward bravery, but this seems like the Peter Principle in action. The point is only more clearly made when we find out that it is Joab who goes first, earning his place as chief. And we all know how well that turned out (1 Kgs. 2:5-6).

My New Bible Commentary notes that Joab’s promotion here would seem to conflict with 2 Samuel, where Joab is already functioning as commander prior to the taking of Jerusalem. Yet, “the commander-in-chief of the king of Judah would not automatically have become commander-in-chief of the king of all Israel” (p.375). In other words, it’s possible that Joab was already commander, but had to re-earn his position in the new national government. Assuming historicity for a moment, this doesn’t seem unreasonable.

James Pate notes a problematic difference between this chapter and 2 Sam. 5:6-10: Whereas in 2 Samuel, David seems to have chosen Jerusalem as his capitol because it was centrally located and because it did not belong to any particular tribe (therefore avoiding the argument of favouritism), the Chronicler gives David complete support from all Israel before he turns to Jerusalem, and in fact shows a pan-tribal attacking army. So why, then, would David have needed to take Jerusalem? Pate discusses the issue in his post.

Once David took Jerusalem, it began to be known as the city of David. He and Joab then set to work repairing the city (and presumably building it up), and thus did David become ever greater.

The Mighty Men

The rest of the chapter lists the men of David’s elite army. It is nearly identical to the list found in 2 Sam. 23:8-39, though with additional names added to the end. One theory is that the 2 Samuel version ended with Uriah to rhetorically underscore the evil that David had done to him in 2 Sam. 11, whereas the Chronicler may have been working with a more complete list.

We begin with the elite of the elite, known as the Three. The group’s leader was Jachobeam, a Hachmonite, who once killed 300 enemies with his spear at one time (the number is 800 in 2 Sam. 23:8, but the difference could be caused by confusion with another warrior, Abishai, who killed 300 in 2 Sam. 23:18 and 1 Chron. 11:20).

The other two members of the Three are mashed together here, apparently due to a scribal error. In 2 Sam. 23:9-12, we learn of two members of the group: Eleazar son of Dodo the Ahohite and Shammah son of Agee the Hararite. In the 2 Samuel version, Eleazar was with David when they defied the Philistines. The Israelite army was routed, but Eleazar kept fighting until his arm grew weary – long enough to win the battle. When the Israelites returned, it was only to strip the dead. As for Shammah, the Israelite army was again routed, but Shammah stood in a plot of lentils, defending it until the Philistines were defeated.

The Chronicler’s version, however, tells us only of Eleazar, and how he was with David at Pasdammim when the Philistines gathered against them. Even though the Israelites were routed, he stood his ground in a field of barley and defeated the Philistines. It’s rather easy to see how a scribe’s eye might skip in two such similar stories.

Before getting into the Thirty, we learn of three men from the band of Thirty (there’s no indication that they are the Three) who came to David while he was in hiding in the cave of Adullam (his stay is narrated in 1 Sam. 22:1-5) while the Philistines occupied Bethlehem.

David seems to have been feeling rather sorry for himself, and said (with much sighing, I imagine) that he wished he could have some water to drink from one of the wells of Bethlehem. These three members of the Thirty heard him (or perhaps overheard him, depending on the interpretation) and took it upon themselves to go fetch that water for David. So they snuck through the Philistine guards, into Bethlehem, and drew the water.

When they returned, however, David refused to drink it. Instead, he poured it onto the ground, saying: “Shall I drink the lifeblood of these men?” (1 Chron. 11:19). How David looks in this story depends entirely on the reader’s interpretation. If he had asked his men who fetch him the water, then his actions are just awful. But if he was just moping about, feeling sorry for himself, and they happened to overhear him and did something foolish that he hadn’t wanted them to do, then he is some degree of less awful. At least no Beckets were killed this time.

The chief of the Thirty was Abishai, Joab’s brother. Like Jachobeam, he too killed 300 enemies at one go with a spear. The other member of the Thirty whose deeds are worth mentioning is Benaiah son of Jehoiada, of Kabzeel, the captain of David’s bodyguards. He killed two whole ariels of Moab, which I’m sure is very impressive whatever an ariel is. He also killed a lion in a pit on a day when snow had fallen, the significant of which is lost on me, but I’m sure that too is very impressive. He also duelled a very large Egyptian who wielded a spear like a weaver’s beam. Benaiah lunged in with his staff and, snatching the oversized spear from the Egyptian’s hands, killed him with his own weapon.

The rest of the Thirty are given as a simple list:

Asahel brother of Joab

Elhanan son of Dodo of Bethlehem

Shammoth of Harod

Helez the Pelonite

Ira son of Ikkesh of Tekoa

Abiezer of Anathoth

Sibbecai the Hushathite

Ilai the Ahohite

Maharai of Netophah

Heled son of Baanah of Netophah

Ithai son of Ribai of Gibeah, of the Benjaminites

Benaiah of Pirathon

Hurai of the brooks of Gaash

Abiel the Arbathite

Azmaveth of Baharum

Eliahba of Shaalbon

Hashem the Gizonite

Jonathan son of Shagee the Hararite

Ahiam son of Sachar the Hararite

Eliphal son of Ur

Hepher the Mecherathite

Ahijah the Pelonite

Hezro of Carmel

Naarai the son of Ezbai

Joel the brother of Nathan

Mibhar son of Hagri

Zelek the Ammonite

Naharai of Beeroth, the armor-bearer of Joab and son of Zeruiah

Ira the Ithrite

Gareb the Ithrite

Uriah the Hittite

Zabad son of Ahlai

Adina son of Shiza, the Reubenite, who was a leader among the Reubenites and was accompanied by 30 of his brethren

Hanan son of Maacah

Joshaphat the Mithnite

Uzzia the Ashterathite

Shama son of Hotham the Aroerite

Jeiel, Shama’s brother

Jediael son of Shimri

Joha, brother of Jediael, a Tizite

Eliel the Mahavite

Jeribai son of Elnaam

Joshaviah, also a son of Elnaam

Ithmah the Moabite

Eliel

Obed

Jaasiel the Mezobaite

These are, of course, way more than thirty men. It seems that the name of David’s elite company was chosen for its neat roundedness (or perhaps its accuracy at some earlier date).

The importance of this chapter should be obvious. At the time of the Babylonian exile, Judah had seen only two dynasties: Saul’s, which lasted for a mere two kings, one of whom was so politically weak that he’s barely considered in the public imagination, and the dynasty of David, which takes a good deal of the credit for shaping the culture and identity of the people who were then taken into exile.

For over four hundred years, David’s dynasty had been churning out propaganda in support of itself. That the kingdom of Judah could exist again without a ‘son of David’ on the throne must have been unthinkable.

This chapter, like the closing verses of 2 Kings (2 Kgs: 25:27-30), offers the hope that restoration is possible – that a true kingdom of Judah, complete with its Davidic king, can exist once again.

The Sons of David

The first section deals with David’s children. This seems to be largely lifted from 2 Sam. 3:2-5 and 2 Sam. 5:13-16. The kids are divided into two groups: those born in Hebron, while David still mostly ruled only over Judah, and those born after his conquest of Jerusalem, when he ostensibly had control of all the Israelite tribes.

The sons born in Hebron, while he ruled there for seven and a half years:

Amnon, born to Ahinoam the Jezreelite

Daniel, born to Abigail the Carmelite

Absalom, born to Maacah, daughter of King Talmai of Geshur

Adonijah, born to Haggith

Shephatiah, born to Abital

Ithream, born to Eglah

The Daniel mentioned here does not appear in the Samuel account. Rather, Abigail’s son is named Chileab in 2 Sam. 3:3. It’s possible that in this, and the other instances we will see, that the discrepancy is due to individuals being known by multiple names, including pet names. In this case, my New Bible Commentary indicates that ‘Chileab’ means “all the father,” so it may be a term of endearment.

James Pate points out an oddity: of all the mothers listed in this section, only Eglah is referred to as David’s “wife” (1 Chron. 3:3). The same thing occurs in 2 Sam. 3:5. Here, of course, it’s likely that the Chronicler just copied the reference from Samuel, but that doesn’t explain why she is the only one named “wife” originally.

To figure this out, Pate looks to her name: “Eglah” is the Hebrew word for “heifer.” In Judges 14:18, Samson refers to his bride as his “heifer,” suggesting that it might be a term of endearment (perhaps used sarcastically by Samson). In other words, Eglah might not have been the woman’s name at all (and Pate finds from Rashi that Eglah was understood to be Michal), but the pet name of a beloved. Hence, a woman who might be honoured in the record by having her wifely status emphasized.

The sons born in Jerusalem, while he ruled there for 33 years:

Shimea, Shobab, Nathan, and Solomon, born to Bathshua, daughter of Ammiel

Ibhar

Elishama (mentioned twice)

Eliphelet (mentioned twice)

Nogah

Nepheg

Japhia

Eliada

These were the sons “besides the sons of the concubines” (1 Chron. 3:9). In addition, Tamar (who features in 2 Sam. 13) is the one daughter mentioned.

Statue of King David, outside the Tomb of King David, Jerusalem

The first discrepancy that jumped out was Bathsheba’s name, here listed as Bathshua. According to Wikipedia, the name ‘Bathsheba’ is constructed from ‘bat’ (daughter) and ‘sheba’ (oath). Replacing ‘sheba’ with ‘shua’ (wealth) may mean as little as a reflection of her change in status, or an emphasizing of a different trait that her loved ones might have wanted for her.

In that same line, we have some other minor discrepancies: Shimea appears as Shammua in 2 Sam. 5:14, and Ammiel is Eliam in 2 Sam. 11:3.

The greater difficulty is with the way the names are presented. The implication (which I reflected in the above list) is that Shimea, Shobab, Nathan, and Solomon were all Bathsheba’s sons. However, the text elsewhere lists sons according to their birth order, and Solomon is explicitly David and Bathsheba’s second son in 2 Sam. 12:24 (where he is the “comfort baby” following the death of their first, unnamed, son).

It seems likely, then, that Shimea, Shobab, and Nathan are not Bathsheba’s sons. Rather, that the Chronicler (or perhaps a later editor) added Bathsheba as Solomon’s mother in his spot in the list of sons whose mothers are otherwise unnamed.

This brings up a secondary point regarding which sons are being identified with their mothers. The mothers in Hebron are all named, yet only Bathsheba is named after coming to Jerusalem. It makes me think of the way the kings of Judah all have their mothers identified in Kings. Perhaps, the purposes of these two sections are different. For whatever reason, which son was born to which wife was important to the Hebron stage of David’s political career. But after coming to Jerusalem, the focus starts to shift off of David and onto a naming of the queen mothers. In this context, Bathsheba is the only mother worth mentioning in this list. It’s worth noting that, when the same lists appears in 2 Sam. 5:13-16 (which the Chronicler was likely copying), Bathsheba is not mentioned.

The next nine names give us some problems as well. The most obvious being that Elishama and Eliphelet both appear twice on the list.

The first name after Ibhar is Elishua in 2 Sam. 5:15, but is the first instance of an Elishama in 1 Chron. 3:6. To me, this suggest a simple error, perhaps due to a tired scribe working too late at night.

The first instance of Eliphelet, in 1 Chron. 3:6, is just as easy to explain, since the name appears later on in the 2 Sam. 5:13-16 passage. A tired scribe may have just begun on the wrong line and carried on, oblivious.

The presence of Nogah in 1 Chron. 3:7 is more difficult to explain. It could be that a corruption dropped the name from Samuel after the Chronicler had already copied from it, or perhaps the Chronicler knew of a tradition in which David had a son named Nogah, so he fit him into his own history.

Even more troubling is the conclusion in 1 Chron. 3:8, which explicitly states that there were nine sons. This count only works if we separate Shimea, Shobab, Nathan, and Solomon from the rest of the list, and then keep all of the Chronicler’s variants. This counting up is absent from 2 Samuel 5:13-16.

The Reigning Sons

Up to this point, the records match pretty well with 1-2 Kings. There are a few variations. Abijah appears as Abijam in 1 Kgs 14:31 and 1 Kgs 15, for example, and Azariah is occasionally named Uzziah (such as in 2 Kgs 15:13).

The most obvious difference between this record and the chronology of the kings of Judah is the omission of Athaliah, who was of course a usurper and a break in the Davidic dynastic line.

The sons of Josiah:

Johanan

Jehoiakim

Zedekiah

Shallum

According to my New Bible Commentary mentions that the Johanan listed here is “not otherwise known” (p.372).

We know from 2 Kgs 23:30 that Josiah was succeeded by a son named Jehoahaz who was swiftly deposed by Pharaoh Neco, and who died in Egypt. Neco then installed Jehoahaz’s brother, Jehoiakim, as king.

It’s stranger that Jehoahaz is not on this list of Josiah’s sons. One possibility is that he is one of the other named sons on the list, and that either the name in 2 Kings 23 or the name here is a throne name. Since the sons are usually listed in birth order, and since we learn in 2 Kgs 23 that Jehoahaz was younger than Jehoiakim, we can assume that he is not the same person as Johanan (unless a dating error has snuck in somewhere). Branching out, we can deduce from Jeremiah 22:11 that he is the same person as the Shallum listed here.

The sons of Jehoiakim:

Jeconiah

Zedekiah

This Zedekiah is not the Zedekiah who had a turn under the crown (that one was named above as a son of Josiah).

The Jeconiah here is apparently the same as the Jehoiachin from from 2 Kgs 24:6, who was deposed by Nebuchadnezzar and taken captive to Babylon. Though his uncle, Zedekiah, was the final king of Judah, 2 Kings ends with Jehoiachin, as the bearer of the Davidic line in exile.

The Remnant

The final section is new for us, charting the deposed dynasty in Babylon, presumably in the hopes that this would enable the Hebrews to install a proper king once they return to Jerusalem. While he is known as Jehoiachin in 2 Kings, he is known as Jeconiah here.

The, the sons of Zerubbabel are: Meshullam and Hananiah (plus a daughter, Shelumith). Listed separately, perhaps because they were born to different wife, we get Hashubah, Ohel, Berechiah, Hasadiah, and Jushabhesed.

Through Hananiah, we get: Pelatiah, Jeshaiah, Rephaiah, Arnan, Obadiah, and Shecaniah. Though the wording here is very odd, allowing for the possibility that this is a lineage (Pelatiah was the father of Jeshaiah, who was the father of Rephaiah, etc). Given the amount of time between the reign of Jeconiah and the return from exile, this seems unlikely.

Shecaniah had one son, Shemaiah.

Through Shemaiah, we get Hattush, Igal, Bariah, Neariah, and Shaphat. Though 1 Chron. 3:22 tells us that these are six names, my advanced mathematical skills allow me to understand that there are, in fact, only five names listed.

Through Neariah, we get Elioenai, Hiskiah, and Azrikam.

Through Elioenai, we get Hodaviah, Eliashib, Pelaiah, Akkub, Johanan, Delaiah, and Anani.

Frustratingly, given the importance of this lineage (both to us and to the people of the exile), the writing is very odd (even in translation) and has likely suffered corruption (or, perhaps, the Chronicler tried to fudge over his lack of knowledge by confusing the language).

Because of this problem, the list is practically useless in trying to date Chronicles. James Pate mentions one possible clue in the form of Anani:

He appears to be the last descendant of David who is mentioned in the genealogy. According to Roddy Braun in his Word Bible Commentary about I Chronicles, there was an Aramaic letter dated to 407 B.C.E. that mentions an Anani, and Braun believes it is plausible that this is the same Anani as the one mentioned in I Chronicles 3:24. That may give us an indication as to the date of I Chronicles.

With the important lineage of David established, the Chronicler will spend the next five chapters looking at each tribe in more detail, then finish up with a discussion of the families in Jerusalem after the exile. Only after that will the narrative begin again.

They say it’s important to begin a story in media res, start with a bang, start with something that will grip your audience and leave them salivating for more.

The Chronicler took this advice and decided to do the precise opposite. And so we begin 1 Chronicles with what is little more than an incredibly tedious list of names. This isn’t even like Genesis, where at least “the begats” were interspersed with narrative. No, not here. Our very first paragraph is composed of thirteen names and one conjunction. It certainly does set a tone!

There are, of course, many theories as to why the Chronicler should choose to begin this way. My study Bible argues that the genealogies are provided to “make it clear that he [the Chronicler] was dealing with the true Chosen People.” Personally, I liked James Pate’s thought that:

I Chronicles may have genealogies as a way to affirm a societal structure in post-exilic Israel and to connect it with pre-exilic Israel, to tell Israel who she is, and to convey that God is preserving God’s people, notwithstanding the exile. There were a lot of people-groups that became lost once they went into exile, but I Chronicles may be trying to demonstrate that Israel did not.

Here, Brant Clements notes that this is first mention of Adam that we’ve seen since Genesis 5:5, and that he will not be mentioned again in the Old Testament. “Adam actually featured more strongly in the New Testament. The ancient Hebrews didn’t put much emphasis on him at all.” It’s a very interesting observation, and clearly an indication of theological evolution. I hope that we get to find out some more about that when we finally reach the New Testament (in, oh, about five years).

Up until Noah, this is a list of generational patriarchs, a direct line from father to son to grandson, and so on. But abruptly, without any indication of change, it presents us with three brothers: Shem, Ham, and Japheth, the sons of Noah.

That’s because it’s with Noah’s sons that we see our first ethnic branching.

The sons of Japheth: According to my study Bible, the sons of Japheth represent Indo-European populations. The section is taken from Genesis 10, and the sons are Gomer, Magog, Madai, Javan, Tubal, Meshech, and Tiras.

In the next generation, the sons of Gomer are Ashkenaz, Diphath (who appears as Riphath in Gen. 10:3), and Togarmah. The sons of Javan are Elishah, Tarshish, Kittim, and Rodanim (who appears as Dodanim in Gen. 10:4).

It’s worth noting that Javan (literally Ionia) represents the Greeks. According to James Pate, the discrepancy between Dodanim (Gen. 10:4) and Rodanim (1 Chron. 1:7) may be due simply to the fact that the “d” and “r” sounds are represented in Hebrew with letters that look similar and may have been confused at some point by some hapless copier. Pate goes on to propose another possibility:

Relying on Mefaresh’s interpretation, which is based on Genesis Rabbah 37:1, the Artscroll says that, when Israel sins, the people-group subjugates Israel and is called the Rodanim, from the Hebrew root r-d-h, which means ruling or oppressing. If Israel controls the people-group, however, the people-group is called the Dodanim, for it is telling Israel that she is its friend, or dod.

Of course, this presents a number of problems, but it’s certainly an interesting proposition.

The sons of Ham: Ham’s sons are Cush, Egypt, Put, and Canaan. In the next generation, the sons of Cush are Seba, Havilah, Sabta, Raama (here spelled without an ‘h’ at the end, though he has one later in the same verse, as well as in Gen. 10:7), and Sabteca. We are also told that Cush was the father of Nimrod, who “began to be a mighty one in the earth” (1 Chron. 1:10). In the generation after that, we have the sons of Raamah: Sheba and Dedan.

Back up the line to Egypt, his sons were Ludim, Anamim, Lehabim, Naphtuhim, Pathrusim, Casluhim (whom the Chronicler tells us fathered the Philistines), and Caphtorim.

Next comes Canaan, for whom the pretence of personification is dropped. Rather than naming his sons, we are told instead that he was the father of Sidon, Heth, the Jebusites, the Amorites, the Girgashites, the Hivites, the Arkites, the Sinites, the Arvadites, the Zemarites, and the Hamathites.

The sons of Shem: The final son of Noah is the sire of the Semitic group, the population from which Abraham will emerge. The sons of Shem are Elam, Asshur, Arpachshad, Lud, Aram, Uz, Hul, Gether, and Meshech (who appears as Mash in Gen. 10:23). This is either an error or deviates quite a bit from the Genesis 10 version, in which Uz, Hul, Gether, and Mash are the sons of Aram, and the grandsons of Shem.

In the next generation, Arpachshad was the father of Shelah, who in turn was the father of Eber. Eber had two sons: Peleg and Joktan. Joktan was the father of Almodad, Sheleph, Hazarmaveth, Jerah, Hadoram, Uzal, Diklah, Ebal (given as Obal in Gen. 10:28), Abimael, Sheba, Ophir, Havilah, and Jobab.

Father of sand, father of stars

We move next to Abraham, who is descended from Shem by way of Arpachshad, Shelah, Eber, Peleg, Reu, Serug, Nahor, and Terah. This portion is lifted from Genesis 11:10-26. Abraham had two sons: Isaac and Ishmael.

The sons of Ishmael: This section is lifted from Gen. 25:12-16. I’ve always found it an interesting twist that Ishmael should be the first born, yet did not inherit divine attention. We see this motif a great deal in Genesis, of younger sons usurping their older brothers. It would be nice to have an explanation for this, though I suppose it could be as simple as inversion of expectation making for psychologically satisfying (and entertaining) stories. Ishmael, of course, sired the Arabic people.

The sons of Keturah: Though 1 Chron. 1:28 implied that Abraham only had Ishmael and Isaac, we know from Gen. 25:1-4 that Abraham remarried after his wife Sarah’s death, a woman named Keturah. Here (1 Chron. 1:32), she is demoted to the status of concubine.

Through her, Abraham was the father of Zimran, Jokshan, Medan, Midian, Ishbak, and Shuah. In the next generation, Jokshan fathered Sheba and Dedan (the same two sons given to Raamah in 1 Chron. 1:9). Jokshan’s brother, Midian, fathered Ephah, Epher, Hanoch, Abida, and Eldaah.

The sons of Isaac: We next move over to Abraham’s son by his first wife, Sarah. Isaac had two sons, Esau and Israel. Esau is the progenitor of the Edomites. Israel was born with the name of Jacob, but received the name Israel after an encounter with the Divine. While Genesis used the two names inconsistently, he is here referred to only as Israel.

Esau’s sons were: Eliphaz, Reuel, Jeush, Jalam, and Korah. In the next generation, Eliphaz fathered Teman, Omar, Zephi (appears as Zepho in Gen. 36:11), Gatam, Kenaz, Timna, and Amalek. Reuel fathered Nahath, Zerah, Shammah, and Mizzah. These are taken from Genesis 36:10-14, where Timna appears as a concubine of Eliphaz, not as his son, and she is the mother of Amalek.

The sons of Seir: We run into a difficulty here, since this is the first mention of a Seir. So where is he meant to fit? My study Bible notes that Seir is “another name for Edom”, referencing Gen. 36:8, and in Gen. 36:20, we learn of a Seir the Horite who lived in Edom. Yet none of this helps to explain how Seir is meant to fit into this genealogy.

In any case, Mystery Seir’s sons are Lotan, Shobal, Zibeon, Anah, Dishon, Ezer, and Dishan. He also had a daughter, named as a full sister of Lotan, by the name of Timna.

In the next generation, Lotan fathered Hori and Homam (appearing as Hemam in Gen. 36:22). Shobal fathered Alian (appearing as Alvan in Gen. 36:23), Manahath, Ebal, Shephi (appearing as Shepho in Gen. 36:23), and Onam. Zibeon fathered Aiah and Anah (he either fathered a daughter by the same name, or there is some confusion – in Gen. 36:2, Zibeon had a daughter named Anah, who married Esau). Anah (Seir’s son, not Zibeon’s) fathered Dishon. And Dishon (again, Seir’s son) fathered Hamran (appearing as Hemdan in Gen. 36:26), Eshban, Ithran, and Cheran. Ezer fathered Bilhan, Zaavan, and Jaakan (appearing as Akan in Gen. 36:27). Dishan fathered Uz and Aran.

The kings of Edom: Before Israel had a king of its own, Edom had plenty. This record may be compared to Gen. 36:31-43. They begin with Bela son of Beor, who ruled from Dinhabah. When he did, Jobab son of Zerah, of Bozrah, took over. After him came Husham, of the lands of the Temanites. Then Hadad son of Bedad, who defeated Midian and ruled from Avith. Then came Samlah of Masrekah. Then Shaul of Rehoboth. Then Baalhanan son of Achbor. Then another Hadad (appearing as Hadar in Gen. 36:39), whose city was Pai (which appears as Pau in Gen. 36:39) and whose wife was Mehetabel daughter of Matred, daughter of Mezahab.

Focus on Judah

The next few chapters cover will cover each individual tribe in excruciating detail. But we begin with Judah, who fathered Er, Onan, and Shelah, via Bathshua the Canaanite.

God killed Er for wickedness (and Onan, but not mentioned here), which leads to Judah impregnating Er’s wife, Tamar, himself. This produced two more sons: Perez and Zerah. This rather sordid story can be found in Genesis 38.

In the next generation, Perez fathered Hezron and Hamul (this corresponds to Gen. 46:12). His brother, Zerah, fathered Zimri (appearing as Zabdi in Jos. 7:1), Ethan, Heman, Calcol, and Dara. If several of these names seem familiar, it might be because they appear in 1 Kings 4:31, as the men of great wisdom to which Solomon is favourably compared. Except, of course, that the version in Kings describes them as the sons of Mahol, not Zerah.

We then skip to a Carmi, who fathers Achar. Achar is described as “the troubler of Israel” (1 Chron. 2:7). Carmi’s link to the rest of the genealogy is omitted, and the description of Achar as “the troubler of Israel” suggests a story with which the reader ought to be familiar. One possibility is that Achar is the Achan from Joshua 7, who cursed the Hebrew army by keeping some of the spoils of war. He is identified in Jos. 7:1 as “the son of Carmi, the son of Zabdi, the son of Zerah, from the tribe of Judah.” This would explain his inclusion here. Except, of course, that it completely screws up the timeline of the Hebrews’ sojourn in Egypt.

In very next verse, we return to the explicit relations with Ethan, who fathered Azariah.

The sons of Perez: Back over to the line of Perez, we move down through his son, Hezron, who fathered Jerahmeel, Ram, and Chelubai. Much later, we learn that Hezron, at the age of sixty, married the daughter of Machir (the father of Gilead). Through her, he had a final son named Segub, who fathered Jair. Jair controlled 23 cities in Gilead until Geshur and Aram conquered a bunch of them.

In the next generation, Ram fathered Amminadab, who fathered Nahshon (described here as the “prince of the sons of Judah” – 1 Chron. 2:10). Through Nahshon, we get Salma (who appears as Salmon in Ruth 4:18-22), through whom we get Boaz (the love interest of the book of Ruth), and through him Obed. Then, through Obed, we get Jesse.

The sons of Jesse: Jesse fathered Eliab, Abinadab, Shimea, Nethanel, Raddai, Ozem, and David. Though only these seven sons are listed here, 1 Sam. 16:10-11 and 1 Sam. 17:12 both explicitly state that he had eight (of which David was the youngest).

He also had daughters: Zeruiah and Abigail. Zeruiah gave birth to some rather plot critical characters: Abishai, Joab, and Asahel, who play a fairly important part in 2 Samuel and 1 Kings. Abigail married Jether the Ishmaelite (named Ithra the Israelite in 2 Sam. 17:25), and bore Amasa. It’s interesting that the children of David’s sisters should be worth mentioning, but not those of his brothers.

The sons of Jerahmeel: The narrative is jumping around quite a bit, making it difficult to follow. We now bounce back to Jerahmeel, Hezron’s eldest. Jerahmeel is a bit difficult, since he is listed specifically as being a member of the tribe of Judah here, yet 1 Sam. 27:10 and 1 Sam. 30:29 refer to the Jerahmeelites as if they were a separate, non-Israelite, group. To smooth this over, my New Bible Commentary argues that “it is much simpler to suppose that the descendants of Jerahmeel, who in any case were settled in the south of Judea, retained their nomadic habits longer, and so in the days of David were reckoned separately from the rest of Judah” (p.372).

Jerahmeel also had a second wife, Atarah, who bore Onam. Onam fathered Shammai and Jada. Shammai fathered Nadab and Abishur. Abishur married a woman named Abihail, and they had Ahban and Molid. Nadab fathered Seled (who died childless) and Apparim, who fathered Ishi. Ishi fathered Sheshan, who fathered Ahlai.

Despite what I said just above, we are told that Sheshan had no sons (this isn’t necessarily a contradiction, as Ahlai might either have died young or been born after the events I am about to relate). To continue his line, he married his daughter to his Egyptian slave, Jarha, and they had Attai.

Brian Shwimmer (of the University of Manitoba’s Department of Anthropology) addresses this in the broader context of inheritance:

Inheritance by daughters imposed a particular difficulty, which is acknowledged in several biblical passages. After Moses first promulgates the rule (Numbers), he is confronted with a problem: if females inherit land from their fathers they will pass it on to their children and therefore into the patrimony of another tribe or lineage. His solution is to institute a parallel cousin marriage regulation. Thus a woman who inherits from her father is to marry her father’s brother’s son so that property will automatically be retained within the wider patriline. A second mechanism for maintaining the continuity of lineage holdings was to marry inheriting daughters to household slaves. Since these dependants had no partilineages of their own, their children were by default incorporated into their mothers’ lineages. The arrangement of marriages to slaves created a number of segments that originated with female rather than male founders (see I Chronicles 2:34-36 for an example.) This institution directly mirrors a solution to the reverse problem of a daughterless family among the Akan, a matrilineal people of West Africa.

The reference to Numbers, of course, relates to the daughters of Zelophehad, whose story can be found in Numbers 27 and Numbers 36.

Attai fathered Nathan, who fathered Zabad, who fathered Ephlal, who fathered Obed, who fathered Jehu, who fathered Azariah, who fathered Helez, who fathered Eleasah, who fathered Sismai, who fathered Shallum, who fathered Jekamiah, who fathered Elishama.

After all that, we move back up the line to Onam’s second son, Jada, who fathered Jether (who died childless) and Jonathan. Jonathan fathered Peleth and Zaza.

A Tale of Two Calebs

I am moving the two sections about Calebs to the bottom for special treatment. The first originally began with 1 Chron. 2:18. The mention of a Caleb is rather odd. It appears to be yet another sui genesis dynasty. In looking for more information, I am finding that the consensus makes Caleb a variant spelling of Chelubai, making him the son of Hezron, grandson of Perez. Except that that Caleb will be mentioned later on, leaving this one still without explanation.

Whoever he is, this Caleb married a woman named Azubah. The verse (1 Chron. 2:18) is rather difficult to parse out, suggesting that Caleb had sons with both Azubah and Jerioth. My interpretation was that this might refer to an arrangement similar to the one used by Abraham in Genesis 16. My New Bible Commentary, however, argues that “either Jerioth was another name of Azubah, or there is a textual corruption” (p.372). The Commentary goes on to suggest that the original wording might have had Azubah give birth to a daughter, Jerioth, who in turn had the sons who will shortly be listed. In any case, Caleb had the following sons: Jesher, Shobab, and Ardon. After Azubah died, Caleb married Ephrath (later listed as Ephrathah, compare 1 Chron. 2:19 to 1 Chron. 2:24), who gave birth to Hur.

Caleb, who apparently lived up to his name (kelev means “dog”), impregnated his father’s wife, Ephrathah – though he at least waited until his father was dead. Through her, he fathered Ashhur, who fathered Tekoa. (There is no mention of either of them being put to death, which would be required by Leviticus 20:11.)

In the next generation, Hur fathered Uri, and Uri fathered Bezalel. This appears to be the same as Bezaleel, named in Exodus 31:2.

Further down (I’m putting it here for convenience), we will get another section headed: “The sons of Caleb the brother of Jerahmeel” (1 Chron. 2:42). The two genealogies are different, though my New Bible Commentaryinsists that the names here are meant to supplement the ones above. To me, this suggests that either Caleb was a quasi-mythic figure in a few different spots, each with their own traditions that had to be amalgamated, or there were a few different Calebs that somehow became conflated.

This Caleb also had a concubine named Ephah, who bore Haran, Moza, and Gazez. Haran also fathered a Gazez, though hopefully a different one.

There is another sui genesis patriarch listed among the descendants of Caleb: Jahdai. Jahdai fathered Regem, Jotham, Geshan, Pelet, Ephah, and Shaaph.

Caleb had yet another concubine, this one named Maacah. She bore Sheber and Tirhanah. We are told that she was also the mother of Shaaph (if the same as above, the implications are even more headache-inducing). Shaaph fathered Madmannah and Sheva. Sheva fathered Macbenah, and was the father of Gibea.

Finally, Caleb had a daughter, Achsah. It is on this basis this Caleb is identified with Caleb the Kenizzite, who appears, for example, in Joshua 14:6, and who also had a daughter by the same name (Jos. 15:17). The theory, if I understand it correctly, goes that he may have been an honorary Israelite, perhaps adopted into Hezron’s family.

Adding to the confusion is the fact that several of Caleb’s descendants are also the names of towns. So are we to understand that Caleb (and his lineage) founded those towns? Or that these individuals gave their names to the towns that they founded?

The sons of Hur: I am continuing this out of order, just to keep Hur in the same section as Caleb. Hur was the son of Ephrathah (called Ephrath in 1 Chron. 2:19), Caleb’s second wife. He fathered Shobal (who “fathered” Kiriath-jearim), Salma (who “fathered” Bethlehem), and Hareph (who “fathered” Beth-gader).

Shobal’s sons were Haroeh, and half of Manuhoth. Yeah, I’m scratching my head as well.

The families of Kiriath-jearim were the Ithrites, the Puthites, the Shumathites, and the Mishraites. From these came the Zorathites and the Esthaolites. The families of Bethlehem were the Netophathites, Atrothbethjoab, the Zorites, and half of the Manahathites. The families of the scribes who lived in Jabez were the Tirathites, the Shimeathites, and the Sucathites. These, we are told, were the Kenites who came from Hammath, the father of the house of Rechab.

The last episode, “Homeland”, ended with the Israelites asking Samuel for a king, and Samuel anointing Saul. In this episode, we get a look at Saul’s reign, his fall, and the rise of David, ending with a look at Solomon as a child.

When I started watching the episode, I accidentally opened episode 1 instead, and I noticed something new about the opening. A title card reads: “This program is an adaptation of Bible stories that changed our world.” The narrator then begins by describing the Bible as if it were a single story, “the most powerful story of all time, it continues to shape our world.” It’s painfully clear from this that the makers of the story don’t see the Bible as a collection of stories, but rather as a single narrative culminating in Jesus. We’ve seen this throughout the last three episodes, with Jesus being shoehorned into the narrative.

The narrator betrays the makers’ politics when he continues, “[The story of the Bible is] the foundation of our governments, the blueprint for our laws, a sacred guide for life’s journey.” Not only is the statement false, it is precisely what people say when they want to argue in favour of putting biblical commandment monuments in government buildings.

Saul’s Reign

The episode begins with a theme-setting question: “Is any man good enough to rule God’s kingdom?” Spoiler alert: The answer is No.

We find Saul hiding behind some rocks, spying on an enemy encampment. The show doesn’t explain why the Israelites are fighting, or what is going on. We know from 1 Sam. 13, however, that Saul has been attacking the Philistines, and the Philistines have raised a very large army to retaliate. The size of this army has the Israelites concerned.

Saul asks out loud, “Where is Samuel?” He explains for the audience’s benefit that Samuel should be there, and that he is needed to make a sacrifice before the Israelites attack. With that bit of exposition out of the way, he declares that he can’t wait any longer.

Just as he is slitting a goat’s throat, however, Samuel casually strolls in, then acts terribly shocked that that the party has started without him.

In the last episode, Samuel was portrayed as power-hungry. He is resentful when the people ask for a king, and grows even more so when God agrees to give them one. He is only tentatively pacified by the reassurance that he can, at least, continue to lead in a religious capacity.

Samuel doesn’t come out looking any better in this episode. His lateness goes completely unexplained. When Saul explains that they’ve been waiting for seven days, and that his men are deserting, Samuel ignores that he is the cause of this. Instead, he replies, “Then be a king, leave the job of priest to me. Do you think God values your sacrifice more than mine?”

His reply is absolutely full of problems. Firstly, the people are deserting because their faith is wavering. A king can only do so much, and it’s likely that Samuel’s absence is being interpreted as God’s absence. When he tells Saul to leave the job of priest to him, he ignores the fact that he hasn’t been doing his job. He never showed up! If he’s not going to be the priest, why should he be upset that someone else has stepped in to fill the void? The final part of his statement is a complete non sequitur. Nowhere is it suggested that Saul believed his sacrifice to be better, simply better than nothing.

Samuel comes off looking like a power-hungry, resentful, neglectful, incompetent douche. This is, actually, fairly faithful to the biblical representation of him. I’m actually rather surprised that the series didn’t try to whitewash him, perhaps by adding a very good reason for him to be late.

Before the interaction is over and the Israelites go to battle, Samuel spits out a command that they are to kill absolutely everyone and everything, then scowls at Saul while the narrator tells us that, “a new era is beginning, one of prophets and kings. They must work together to secure the promised land.” It’s hard not to hear the doom in that pronouncement as we see Samuel’s utter contempt for his king.

The Israelites fight while Samuel stands on a hill, watching the battle. Unfortunately, he sees the Israelites take a prisoner, and the next scene begins with him shrieking at Saul: “You had ONE task, ONE simple command, from God!! Destroy everything!”

Saul argues, claiming to have followed God’s commandments. To this, Samuel replies in full sarcasm mode: “Then what is this bleating of goats in my ears? What is this lowing of cattle, wailing of lambs? Can the dead cry out? And who,” he points to the prisoner, “is this pagan king?” Saul claims that the king was being saved only temporarily, that he would be killed later, but Samuel is having none of it. He slits the king’s throat himself.

Samuel doesn’t like to share.

As in the text, it is at this battle that Saul loses his dynasty. Samuel declares: “Your descendants could have ruled for over a thousand years, but today God has forsaken you.” This is fairly similar to his pronouncement in 1 Sam. 13:14, except that Samuel had made this pronouncement prior to the battle, and I do not recall Saul being guilty of keeping livestock from a battle.

I mentioned when I was reading 1 Sam. 13 that Samuel’s reaction here seemed to be another manifestation of his jealousy. He hadn’t taken well to losing secular authority, but had at least retained religious authority. Seeing Saul step into that territory as well seems to have enraged him.

In the series, Saul seems to agree with this assessment. He isn’t sure whether Samuel is speaking as himself or for God, out of personal jealousy or in his capacity as a prophet.

As Samuel tries to turn away from the interaction, Saul holds on to his scarf, ripping it. At least, I think it’s his scarf. The ripping takes place under the camera’s frame, and – despite the tearing sound – Samuel’s clothes do not move as though they were being held with enough force to rip (which, by the way, would be quite a lot of force – way more than movies ever seem to assume).

In any case, Saul comes away with a piece of Samuel’s clothes in his hands. When Samuel sees this, he says: “God has torn your power from you.” Clever, clever.

Incidentally, this interaction is not found in the text in relation to Saul/Samuel, but I think it may be a reference to something that happens much later, when Solomon is king. In the story, the prophet Ahijah tears his garment into twelve pieces in order to show Jeroboam than the nation would be torn (1 Kgs 11:29-32). Jeroboam would then go on to found the Northern Kingdom after Solomon’s death.

This section of the episode closes with a very disturbed Saul, asking himself if he’s been to hasty. He decides to ask Samuel for forgiveness, but learns that Samuel is already gone. Saul clutches poignantly to the torn piece of robe.

Enter David

The portrayal of David in the episode really isn’t flattering, though I did find it quite close to the text.

The narrator tells us that, as a result of Saul’s disobedience, God sent Samuel out in search of a new king. Both scene and narration make it seem as though God had chosen Saul, but that’s failed so now he will let Samuel choose the next king. It’s a little odd.

He really just can’t stop squinting.

In any case, Samuel is walking about when he comes upon a teenaged shepherd killing a wolf with a sling. Despite the fact that David’s introductory dialogue is terribly awkward and he can’t seem to stop squinting, Samuel decides that he should be Israel’s next king. I can’t help but wonder if the show’s Samuel deliberately chose the least likely candidate as a form of revenge for his loss of status.

In any case, Samuel anoints David and tells him that he will be king of Israel “once Saul is dead.”

In the next scene, we return to Saul in the aftermath of Samuel’s departure. Jonathan is disturbed that Saul seems so troubled despite their great victory. In response, Saul says that he’s just tired and needs some sleep.

Despite the fact that he is sleeping in the next scene (having troubled dreams in which he calls out to God for forgiveness), the narrator assures us that some time has passed. That’s good, because it helps to explain why David is in the room playing his harp.

It’s a fairly damning scene, as we see David looking longingly past a sleeping Saul at his crown while the narrator tells us that he has entered Saul’s court and resides there as “a king in waiting.” Whether intended or not, that colours everything that follows.

In another battle against the Philistines, Goliath reveals himself. It’s rather amusing as he isn’t particularly tall (maybe a head taller than the fairly uniform Israelites, but I’m often a head taller than everyone in female crowds, and it’s not unusual for my spouse to be able to spot nits in most crowds), yet his footsteps make this incongruous booming sound.

Goliath steps out in front of the Philistine army and asks for an Israelite champion willing to fight him.

Jonathan offers himself up first – a detail absent from the text – but Saul forbids it. No one else comes forward. In an effort to rouse a volunteer, Saul declares that any man who defeats Goliath will be very rich. Still, the Israelite lines are silent. Goliath taunts them.

Then David, his pubescent voice cracking and positioned in the background so that he appears very small beside Saul and Jonathan, calls out that he will do it. Saul protests, “You’re no soldier. You’re a shepherd!” To which David replies: “As I protect my sheep, God will protect me.” This will become a common taunt from David, a reminder to Saul that God has switched favourites.

Saul tries to give him a shield, but David throws it aside, picking up a rock instead. As he approaches Goliath, he mutters out a “here though I walk in the shadow of death, I fear no evil” speech. This is, of course, from Psalm 23 and doesn’t appear anywhere in the book of Samuel. It’s hard to deduct points, though, since tradition does attribute the psalm to David.

Predictably, the Philistines start laughing when they see David approach. For some unexplained and absurd reason, Goliath then removes his helmet, giving David a clear shot at his head. There’s no reason for him to do this except to give David a clear shot. I suppose its possible that they wanted to use the act to show how little of a threat Goliath considered David to be, but it’s just so incredibly silly. They could have just as easily not given Goliath a helmet at all, as Saul doesn’t wear one in his battle scenes.

We get a Raiders of the Lost Ark set up where David is loading his sling as Goliath swooshes his sword around, then BAM! It’s all over in an instant as David bonks him. Unlike Indy, David then runs up and beheads Goliath, holding up the severed head and unleashing a mighty pubescent roar.

In some rather ham-fisted foreshadowing, Saul calls David his “wolf in shepherd’s clothing,” and says that “you’ve saved my kingdom!”

Next comes the Hakuna Matata-style growing up scene, as David transitions from boy to man while fighting Philistines, as the narrator tells us that he fought on Saul’s behalf “for decades.” In the end, “he becomes a warrior, a leader, a hero.”

The Souring

We immediately see that Saul knows David’s destiny, or at least suspects it. As Saul marches in a parade through his city while the people throw down flower petals and chant his name, David comes into view looking somewhat sour. But then, someone cries out that David has killed tens of thousands, and the crowd shifts to chanting David’s name. In an instant, David goes from looking rather miffed to grinning, raising his arms to accept the praise. The taunt is one that is repeated a few times in relation to Saul and David, such as in 1 Sam. 18:7. We’ll see it repeated a few times in the show, as well.

Jonathan perceives that his father is unhappy with the crowd’s turning, and tries to pacify him, saying that David does deserve their praise. Saul replies: “He’ll want my crown next.” The last shot of the scene is of David smirking, like he’s thinking, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

In the next scene, David is lounging with Jonathan and Michal, and the two men appear to be boasting of their military prowess while Saul hides behind a column, listening. Saul calls David forth, spitting the chant back at him: “So, once again you are our champion. You have killed thousands.” Jonathan, who is apparently completely tactless in this show, calls out a correction: “TENS of thousands!”

Saul sarcastically expresses his gratitude for David’s service, to which David says, “The Lord blessed us all.” The way he says it feels like a jab, as he can’t seem to be able to stop smirking whenever he speaks with Saul. He knows that Saul no longer has God’s blessing.

In his best creepy voice, Saul tells David that he will reward him with Michal. Far from happy or even smug, David looks completely freaked out by this announcement. At least until Saul asks for 100 dead Philistines in exchange (which, frankly, doesn’t seem like much for a men credited with killing tens of thousands).

David’s madness-inducing smirk.

Jonathan and Michal are concerned, but David is cocky. He assures them that he will return and, with an ominous glare at Saul, he adds, “God willing.” Again, he knows that he is God’s chosen, and Saul knows it, too. David repeatedly throws it in Saul’s face throughout the episode.

With one final smirk, David heads off to battle. As they watch him leave, Saul says to Jonathan, “You love him like a brother, don’t you?” Jonathan gazes wistfully after David as he replies that he does. Saul continues, “As Abel no doubt loved Cain.” Jonathan’s portrayal is an odd one. It seems rather terrible to say that he acts gay, but the subtext certainly seems to be there in the way that he looks at David. I’m surprised, given the incentive to “no homo” the Jonathan/David relationship.

In any case, Saul continues on about David wanting the crown, while Jonathan protests that he is loyal. And yet we, the audience, saw the way that David looked at Saul’s crown in an earlier scene. We know that Saul knows exactly what is going on, and that Jonathan has been deluded (either by himself or by David).

When David returns, he brings “trophies taken from each of [the Philistines’] bodies.” No mention is made of foreskins, and Saul never asks for such trophies (and, in fact, seems rather disgusted to be presented with them.

There is a discrepancy in the text regarding how many foreskins David needed to collect; 2 Sam. 3:14 claims that it’s 100, while 1 Sam. 18:27 puts it at 200. The show fudges this by having Saul ask for 100 dead Philistines, and David bringing back 200 foreskins. With his signature smirk, he tells Saul that “God was with me.” There it is again, that reminder that God’s allegiances have shifted.

Michal is presented to David, but Saul throws a spear at them before they’ve left the room. Jonathan asks: “Father, what demons possess you? Without him, we would all be slaves and you would not be king.” To which Saul replies: “And with him, you never will be.” What Jonathan blames on demons, the text blames on an evil spirit (1 Sam. 16:14-16).

A little later, a man goes to Michal, informing her that Saul wishes to see David. She replies that it’s impossible, that David is not well. During the interaction, Saul is skulking behind a curtain, spying on the interaction. When Michal replies, however, Saul flies out in a rage. He pushes past his daughter and finds the apartments empty. Jonathan and Michal are both defending David, and this further enrages Saul.

The whole narrative is played as though Saul is deranged and paranoid, yet David has been anointed as the future king, and the look he gave Saul’s crown was unmistakable. He is continually smirking at Saul and goading him, reminding Saul that it is David who now holds God’s favour. It feels an awful lot like David is gaslighting Saul, making him seem crazy to the point that his own children turn against him.

As Saul chases after David, there is a brief scene where slaughters the priests (the story is taken from 1 Sam. 22).

In the next scene, Saul leaves his guards to go on a little stroll. It’s as ridiculous here as it is in 1 Sam. 24. What guards would let their king wander about in the wilderness alone? With bandits nearby? Saul continues to be portrayed as losing his mind, as he talks to himself in a distorted voice (a standard movie convention to show psychological slippage). And his guards, seeing him in this deranged state, decide to let him just wander off.

Saul enters a cave and starts to pee. As he does so, David does the worst sneaking job ever to get up behind Saul and cut off a piece of his clothes. Despite this making a rather loud fabric-tearing noise, Saul notices nothing. He also notices nothing as goes to leave the cave with David standing out in the open right behind him. It is only when David calls out that Saul notices him. Is he meant to be drunk? It strains credulity.

As in 1 Sam. 24, David shows his piece of robe to Saul as proof that he could have easily killed him, yet didn’t. He plays the innocent as he declares that “only evildoers do evil deeds, so my hand will not touch you.” This is doubly ironic with Uriah standing right beside him (not to mention a terribly naive statement).

Saul shrieks at him, but for once David keeps his smirks and jabs to himself. When Saul asks him if, “when you have my crown, will you not kill my descendants?” David swears that he won’t. Of course, he will. His followers will murder Ishbosheth in 2 Sam. 4, and he’ll hand several of Saul’s descendants over to the Gibeonites in 2 Samuel 21. Yet the show makes David seem sincere here. For the first time in the entire episode, David is playing the part of the wrongfully accused.

Here, the show does some conflating. It has David’s companion ask him why he would spare Saul’s life, as Abishai does in 1 Sam. 26 when he and David sneak into Saul’s camp to murder him, but David changes his mind at the last moment. Only in the episode, Abishai doesn’t exist and the companion is Uriah.

In answer to the question, David says: “Because he’s one of the anointed. It’s up to God to decide his destiny.” The look Uriah gives him is absolutely precious. It perfectly conveys the message: “What if God’s destiny for him was for you to kill him, though?”

In the next scene, Saul is stabbing his food with a knife when Jonathan runs up to him, screaming “father father father” the whole way. He warns Saul of an approaching Philistine army, but Saul is so paranoid that he can only mutter on about David.

The portrayal is different from the one we get in 1 Sam. 23, where Saul doesn’t seem to hesitate at all before he abandons his chase of David to take care of the impeding Philistines. Here, however, Jonathan must convince him that it is his duty to defend his kingdom before he agrees to go.

This battle is conflated with the one in which Saul dies. David’s stint as a bandit and his joining the Philistines are both completely erased. He is simply an Israelite on the run from a mad king, and that’s that.

The battle itself is somewhat different as well. The Israelites are losing and, as they try to run away, Jonathan is killed by an arrow. The Philistines then immediately hold back to give Saul time for a monologue in which he blames himself for the terrible losses.

Incidentally, this is precisely why you never put your king and his heir in the same battle. It’s a rooky mistake, forgiveable only because Israel is still new to this whole monarchy thing.

In any case, Saul is so repentant that he commits suicide. He is never injured, and his suicide is out of remorse rather than fear of capture, as it was in 1 Sam. 31.

Saul’s crown dramatically rolls away from his body, and is picked up by an Israelite soldier. The soldier then brings it to David, and tells him of Saul and Jonathan’s death. As he presents the crown, he begins to giggle, and it is this that offends David rather than the messenger’s claim that he had personally killed Saul (as in 2 Sam. 1). Rather than order the messenger killed, as he does in the text, David simply commands him out of his sight.

Once they are alone, Uriah falls to his knees and declares David king.

David’s Reign

David’s reign, as the narrator tells us, begins with the need for a capitol. In the next shot, a band of Israelites are crawling through one of Jerusalem’s water supply tunnels, likely about to get terrible rashes from the chaffing of their wet clothes and armour.

The scene is ridiculous. In a rather pathetic attempt to add some drama, the show has David’s group encounter a grate barring their way. David’s companions are at a loss, they have no idea what to do next! Thankfully, David displays his brilliant mind by figuring out that they can just swim under the grate.

Okay, so why was that grate there? If it only goes partway and is no barrier whatsoever to invaders, why was the grate placed there in the first place?

It’s not a dramatic moment when there is such a cheat-y solution. It’s just absurd.

It doesn’t get any better after that, either, as David and his band slosh around Jerusalem, leaving a trail of wet footprints that go completely unnoticed by the world’s worst guards. When David opens the gates, the Israelite army is able to rush straight in. It seems that they had been waiting just outside – a whole army literally at the gate – and the guards hadn’t noticed a thing.

There’s some more conflation as the scene switches straight to the ark being brought into the city and David dancing before it. They did make him bare-chested, but he is far from nude!

While in this state of undress, he encounters Uriah and his wife. He makes eyes with Bathsheba, and tells Uriah that, “your wife is far too pretty for you.” The rape is somewhat foreshadowed when David, taking Bathsheba’s hand to lead her into a dance, asks Uriah if he minds – never giving Uriah a chance to respond. Bathsheba does, however, saying “I mind.” David doesn’t seem to care, and pulls her into the dance anyway.

A creeped out Bathsheba.

As they dance, David’s eyes linger on Bathsheba, and she instantly stiffens. The camera switches to Uriah, who appears to be getting worried, then back to Bathsheba as she pulls away from David. She looks incredibly uncomfortable as she returns to Uriah, though he just grins on apparently willing to overlook what his king’s presumption.

David, completely unperturbed, dances on into the ark’s tent and declares that “now God is truly with me!” It seems odd that he’s allowed in there.

As the scene was playing out, I was worried that Michal’s fight with David would be fit into it. It would have been easy to play her anger as simple jealousy at seeing David dancing with another woman. While I’m not particularly happy with her being completely written out of the scene, at least they didn’t go in that direction.

The adultery angle is an interesting one. In the show, it’s not clear that David is cheating on his wives, since it isn’t really clear that he has any. Only Michal has been introduced (Abigail is entirely absent), but she was merely promised by Saul, and that only moments before he flings a spear at them both. The only suggestion that their relationship might be more than platonic comes when Michal is guarding the door to David’s apartments, which might suggest that they are her apartments as well. Yet there is no wedding scene, no point at which she is referred to as David’s wife, and she is completely gone by the time Bathsheba enters the scene. Since David is never shown with any other woman, it would be easy to conclude that he was simply a bachelor when he met Bathsheba.

In any case, the next scene finds David on his rooftop, playing with a maquette of Jerusalem. He has a little clay temple, and is trying to find an ideal site for it when he sees Bathsheba bathing. The camera lingers on her, representing David’s gaze. I was very relieved that the show’s creators didn’t make Bathsheba into a temptress. She never looks back at David, and never even seems aware that he is there. The scene makes it clear that he is being a creepster, while she’s just trying to enjoy a bath.

David’s voyeurism is interrupted by Nathan. David tries to deflect the fact that he’s been caught by pointing out his plans for a temple. “For the Lord,” he insists. It’s well done the way he wears the mantle of godliness, insisting that he is on his roof to do God’s work, to protect himself from the fact that he’s just been caught spying on a bathing woman. I think the show’s creators wanted to highlight that David wanted to build the temple for selfish reasons, rather than as a proper tribute to God, but they inadvertently made a fairly powerful comment about “godly men” as well.

Nathan, of course, is having none of it. He tells David that he’s had a dream from God, who says that David’s house will rule Israel forever (the term isn’t fudged, despite everyone watching knowing that this is false – I found that interesting), but that it will be David’s son who will build the temple.

“My temple?” asks David, incredulous. “God’s temple,” corrects Nathan. David quickly accepts his chastisement and thanks Nathan. As soon as Nathan leaves, David goes back to perving on Bathsheba.

That night, David is lounging on his roof when a servant announces that Bathsheba has been brought, “as requested.” She is very formal, addressing David as “your majesty.” He insists that she call him David, trying to make it personal. She pulls back again, mentioning her husband, asking if there’s been news of him. David says that there hasn’t been, and reminds her that he’s very far away. He leers at her, invades her personal space. She’s stiff and clearly uncomfortable. He starts touching her cheek, and she firmly tells him that she is “loyal to my husband.” Captain Grabbyhands asks, “what about your king?” The meaning is clear – as king, he can command her to submit.

David is absolutely disgusting. In a final effort, Bathsheba tries to pull away. “This is wrong!” she says. “No one need know,” answers David, and the scene fades to black. The narrator announces: “Bathsheba becomes pregnant.”

I’m glad that they did the scene the way they did. Too much pop culture portrays Bathsheba as a temptress, or at least as a willing participant, and I’m glad that they made it so clear that what happened was a rape.

In the next scene, David has sent for Uriah and asks him how the war is going, how’s Joab, how are the other soldiers? All fine, says Uriah. As in the text, David tries to send him home to sleep with Bathsheba, hoping to cover up the timing of her pregnancy, but Uriah refuses. “This is a holy war, how can I go to my home and spend the night with my wife?” David tries the same trick he tried with Bathsheba: “Man to man, who’se to know?” But Uriah is firm, “I will know.” He seems very confused, but as with the ark parade, he is willing to ignore everything and his grin quickly returns.

The narrator cuts in to inform us that David can’t, actually, force Uriah to sleep with Bathsheba. Instead, “he finds another way to conceal his adultery.” The use of the term “adultery” is rather iffy here, given that he didn’t just cheat on Uriah. I mean, yes, technically, it’s adultery, but it’s also rape. He’s raped Uriah’s wife, and that term always takes precedence over the victim’s marital status.

As in the text, David sends Uriah back to the battlefront with a letter for Joab in which he instructs Joab to send Uriah to the most dangerous battlefront and abandon him there. As in the text, Joab shows absolutely no remorse or hesitation. He simply reads the letter, then tosses it in the fire before walking away.

In the next scene, David and Bathsheba are presented as a happy couple, standing close together in a beautiful garden, holding their baby. Nathan interrupts the scene, asking David, “You think you can just sweep everything you’ve done under the carpet? […] You think God doesn’t see everything?” David and Bathsheba both immediately look at their baby, and they know. They know.

David is seated before the ark, pleading for his son’s life, when Bathsheba walks in crying. “First my husband, now my son. We are cursed,” she says. David turns on Nathan, crying out: “But I was anointed! God blessed me!” This detail is an invention of the show, and a silly one at that. How could David believe that his anointing granted him immunity after seeing what happened to Saul? I could understand remorse, I could understand a lament that he had allowed himself to believe himself “too big to fail,” but this statement to Nathan is just silly. Likely, it was only inserted so that we could get Nathan’s reply: “A king is never above his god.”

But never mind, all is well because Nathan promises them another son.

Sure enough, in the next scene David and Bathsheba are hanging out in the sun again, this time with a young boy, Solomon. The child is playing with David’s temple maquette, hammering in for the audience that he’s going to be the one to build the temple.

But, cycling back to the episode’s thematic question, the narrator tells us that “Solomon will build God’s temple. But, like his father, he will find it impossible to obey God’s commandments.”

The court cleared of dissent, Solomon starts working on external politics – marrying the daughter of an Egyptian Pharaoh. He brought her to the city of David, pending the completion of his own house (presumably here meaning “palace” rather than “dynasty”) and the wall around Jerusalem.

The Deuteronomist editor slips in a bit about how “the people were sacrificing at high place,” though this is excusable for the time being because “no house had yet been built for the name of the Lord” (1 Kgs 3:2). We know by content that this is the Deuteronomist talking, but we know to look because it makes no sense in context. This location for the verse seems to have been chosen only because of the mention of construction preceding it, and the mention of Solomon worshipping at high places following.

In fact, the source material seems to approve quite plainly of Solomon’s worship at the high places, saying that he did it because he “loved the Lord” (1 Kgs 3:3). Solomon, we are told, was quite a fan of these high places (and of God!), and sacrificed a hyperbolic amount. In particular, he made a huge sacrifice at Gibeon, which occasioned God’s appearance in his dreams.

Like some sort of magical fish, God offers to grant one wish. Solomon chooses wisdom, and God is so pleased with the choice that he just grants riches, honour, and long life, too – so long as Solomon always obeys God, of course. Then again, the bar is set rather low, since God only requires that Solomon walk on God’s road “as your father David walked” (1 Kgs 3:14) – has he been reading the same book I’ve been reading?

Solomon is so pleased with how that dream, went (and who wouldn’t be!) that he rushes back to Jerusalem to make another offering before the ark.

Practical Wisdom

The next seems to have been included to show us an example of Solomon’s new-found wisdom in action. It takes place while he sites in judgement, apparently bridging the gap between local chieftain and king, since it seems unlikely that a king would have the time to see more than a symbolic handful of petitioners – a lesson Moses learned way back in Exodus 18 and Deuteronomy 16.

Victor Matthews says that Solomon may have taken up the task for political reasons:

These shifts [introduction of monarchy and movement of population to urban centres] contributed to significant changes in legal customs and the administration of justice in ancient Israel. Naturally the Israelite kings, like their ancient Near Eastern counterparts (see the preface to Hammurabi’s code in ANET, 164), wished to exercise as much control over the law and its enforcement as possible in order to increase their own authority. This meant the king had to be identified with dispensing of justice to all segments of society, especially the weak. The ideal, perhaps best exemplified by Solomon’s judging of the two prostitutes (1 Kgs 3:16-28), was to create the perception that he was a “just king.” With this accomplished, it would be more likely that people would look to him first for justice. (Manners & Customs of the Bible, p.119)

The scene is very similar to David’s dealings with Ziba and Mephibosheth back in 2 Samuel 19. In that case, David had granted Mephibosheth’s lands to Ziba after the latter claims that the former failed to support David when he fled Jerusalem. When David returns, Mephibosheth claims that Ziba had lied. In this case, two prostitutes come before Solomon, claiming that they had given birth within three days of each other and, while alone in the house one night, one of them had lain on her baby, suffocating it by accidentally. Now, each are claiming that the mother of the dead child secretly switched it for the other woman’s living child.

The Judgement of Solomon, by Peter Paul Rubens, c.1617

When David had dealt with Ziba and Mephibosheth, he tried to resolve the argument by splitting the lands in half, so that each would get a share. Solomon claims that he will do the same here, fetching a sword to cut the baby in half so that each woman could have a share.

When the solution was given, both Mephibosheth and the (presumably) true mother gave up their claim (the other woman demanding the child’s death so that “it shall be neither mine nor yours” – 1 Kgs 3:26), preferring that the land/baby be whole and out of their possession, rather than divided/dead and only half theirs. David shrugged and accepted Mephibosheth’s relinquishing of his claim to the lands. Solomon, by contrast, declares her to be the true mother and gives her the baby, whole.

This story only really works in contrast to David’s, so that we can see Solomon’s wisdom boost in contrast to how David dealt with a similar issue. But neither story works except in contrast to the other. David dealt horribly with Ziba and Mephibosheth, rewarding a man who seems to have been opportunistic and perfectly willing to betray his master (not something a king should particularly be encouraging – though the fact that David does certainly goes a way toward explaining how his reign came to be so troubled), while screwing over a cripple whose livelihood was probably put into question by the ruling.

In Solomon’s case, there was really only one way to resolve the issue, and it depended entirely on one woman (and only the one) relinquishing her claim. Any other outcome would have required Solomon to either reveal his bluff or murder a baby – neither which, I imagine, would have particularly endeared him to his people.

The second woman had recently lost her baby and resorted to kidnapping a replacement. While it’s certainly possible that she might have been so bitter that she would rather see a second baby die rather than live in a house with a healthy baby who wasn’t her own, that seems far from the only way she could have responded. So unless Solomon’s wisdom included clairvoyance, I think his gambit was far more of a long shot than the narrative implies – unless, of course, he really was perfectly willing to murder the baby.

Incidentally, Tim Bulkeley points out that neither woman is called “mother” by the narrative, only by Solomon and only at the very end when he renders his judgement. He also mentions that when the one who is determined to be the true mother is moved by “compassion” (1 Kgs 3:26) to relinquish her claim, the word used is etymologically related to the word for “womb.”

Solomon’s Administration

Chapter 4 begins with Solomon’s cabinet. From the very first, there’s some confusion as we are told that Azariah, the son of Zadok was the priest, while a few verses later has both Zadok and Abiathar as priests (Abiathar, of course, having been deposed earlier). Explaining Abiathar’s presence requires that we assume that some time-hopping is going on, but Azariah is more complicated. I can only guess, but it’s possible that Azariah’s role is as a family priest, perhaps tending exclusively to Solomon and his household, while Zadok and Abiathar are meant to be the co-high priests, in charge of all the other priests. Sort of like the difference between a family chaplain and a pope.

We also get another Azariah, this time the son of Nathan, who is in charge of the officers. Zabud, also the son of Nathan, is another priest and king’s friend. My first thought was that both of these Nathans were Nathan the Prophet, though it seems more probable given the lack of honorific that he was David’s son, mentioned in 2 Sam. 5:14.

Elihoreph and Ahijah, the sons of Shisha, served as secretaries;

Jehoshaphat, son of Ahilud, was recorder;

Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, was commander of the army;

Ahishar was in charge of the palace;

Adoniram, son of Abda, was in charge of the forced labor.

We’re also told that Solomon appointed twelve officers, overseers of the various territories in the nation. Interestingly, these territories do not “conform to the old tribal boundaries,” as my study Bible puts it. These officers seem to be in charge of collecting taxes, providing food for the king and his household (apparently each being responsible for one month of the court’s needs per year). These officers were:

Ben-hur over the hill country of Ephraim

Ben-decker over Makaz, Shaal’bim, Bethshemesh, and Elonbeth-hanan

Ben-hesed over Arubboth

Ben-abinadab over Naphathdor (and he was married to Taphath, Solomon’s daughter)

Baana, son of Ahilud, over Taanach, Megiddo, and Bethshean

Ben-geber over Ramoth-gilead

Ahinadab, son of Iddo, over Mahanaim

Ahimaaz over Naphtali (and he was married to Basemath, Solomon’s daughter)

Baana, son of Hushai, over Asher and Bealoth

Jehoshaphat, son of Paruah, over Issachar

Shimei, son of Ela, over Benjamin

Geber, son of Uri, over Gilead

An unknown officer over Judah

The count is more than twelve, perhaps indicating that the unknown officer over Judah was separate from the others, perhaps meaning that Judah was exempt from the taxes Solomon required of the other regions. If so, this looks more like a primary tribe collecting tribute from vassal tribes than a real unified nation.

I also find it interesting that Solomon has married two of his daughters to these regional leaders, particularly when he’s clearly dabbling in external politics. There’s probably nothing to it, but it makes me wonder if perhaps Solomon was still working to settle a turbulent court. He either executed or exiled all the major threats, and I wonder if this is evidence of him trying to secure internal allies through marriage. (Though Crusader Kings II has taught me that these internal unions can be quite a double-edged sword, since they give the descendants of those courtiers hereditary claims to the crown that may cause problems for your successors.)

Despite the mention of taxes and forced labour, we’re assured that everyone in Judah and Israel was happy, and that Solomon’s kingdom was very large. We’re given a list of the provisions he went through in one day, which I assume indicates the size of his court rather than the size of his belly. It seems a bit much even if it’s for his entire family.

We get some gushing about the awesome number of horses, chariots, and horsemen, not to mention the stables required to house such numbers. This detail – clearly presented here in a positive light – obviously comes from a different source than Deut. 17:16.

The boundaries of Solomon’s kingdom are rather unlikely. The fact that they fit with the promise made to Abraham in Genesis 15 suggests that they are likely a romanticized fantasy of the nations “glory days,” rather than an accurate description of a small, new nation just beginning to emerge from its origins as a tribal confederacy.

Solomon’s Wisdom

To close off the chapter, we get another reminder that Solomon was so terribly wise. In fact, he was so wise that he “surpassed the wisdom of all the people of the east, and all the wisdom of Egypt” (1 Kgs 4:30) – though the only demonstration we’ve seen so far leaves me rather unconvinced. Unless he is meant to only seem wise by comparison.

Solomon is mentioned to be wiser than Ethan the Ezrahite, as well as the sons of Mahol: Heman, Calcol, and Darda. Clearly, this is a reference the reader is supposed to get.

We’re told that he composed 3,000 proverbs and 1,005 songs, and that he seems to have had a fair bit of knowledge of the natural sciences (or liked nature themes in his songs and proverbs, I suppose). People came from “all the kings of the earth” to seek out his wisdom, clearly implying that – at least as far as threatening to cut babies in half was concerned – Solomon was better than any other king.

1 Kings opens with a greatly aged King David, who is no longer able to keep his own body warm. As a solution, his court decides to find a beautiful maiden (because of course she has to be beautiful) upon whose bosom David might be warmed. They choose a woman named Abishag the Shunammite, and we are assured that she passed muster as far as beauty is concerned (no comment on her breast temperature, though, which I would have thought the more salient information). Perhaps in an attempt to make this sound a little less skeevy, the text assures us that, while Abishag tended to David, “the king knew her not” (1 Kgs 1:4), in the biblical sense, as it were. I’m not sure whether the comment is meant to provide additional evidence of David’s frailty (as Brant Clements of Both Saint And Cynic puts it, the verse could be implying that “the king’s sexual prowess has abated”), or to clarify that Abishag was brought in solely as a fleshy radiator and did not have any official status as royal wife/concubine.

Adonijah’s Succession

With David so weakened, it’s time for another one of his sons to make a play for the crown. This time, it’s Adonijah. If you will remember from way back in 2 Samuel 3, David’s sons are, in order of birth:

Amnon, son of Ahinoam of Jezreel: Murdered by his brother, Absalom, for having raped their sister, Tamar.

Chileab, son of Abigail: Never mentioned again after 2 Sam. 3:3. Presumably dead in infancy.

Absalom, son of Maacah and grandson of Talmai, king of Geshur: Took the crown by force, then killed in the ensuing battle.

Adonijah, son of Haggith.

Shephatiah, son of Abital.

Ithream, son of Eglah.

Solomon, son of Bathsheba.

Based on the actions of Absalom and Adonijah, there seems to have been an assumption of primogeniture (and I’ve already mentioned my suspicion that Absalom’s murder of Amnon had more to do with his later power play than with Tamar). Given that the people wanted a warrior king who would defend the Hebrew nation against Philistines and other external threats, its perfectly conceivable that Adonijah honestly did believe that it was time for his father to retire and leave the ruling of the country to his eldest son.

And Adonijah wouldn’t have been alone in thinking that, as the text tells us that he had the support of Joab and Abiathar, the priest. He may even have had implicit approval from David, since we’re told that he gathered together chariots, horsemen, and fifty infantrymen as part of his retinue, and David never said a word in rebuke.

Either way, the whole succession narrative sounds positively Welsh in its messiness.

Adonijah’s ascent didn’t go uncontested, however. He was unable to get the support of Zadok, Benaiah, Nathan, Shimei, Rei (the only novel name in the list, my New Bible Commentary suggests that it may be “‘Shimei the friend’ following Josephus, since each of the other persons in the verse has a descriptive title,” p.325), and David’s “might men,” leaving most of David’s inner court against him.

We’re told that Adonijah made a sacrifice at the Serpent’s Stone, inviting all his brothers (except Solomon) and all the royal officials of Judah (except Nathan, Benaiah, or the “mighty men” – most of the people who refuse to support him). Interestingly, though not explicitly excluded, no mention is made of Israelite royal officials, suggesting that perhaps the confederation that had united the two halves of the Hebrew nation was, at least at this time, dissolved. The fact that he explicitly did not invite Solomon suggests that perhaps he had already identified him as a threat (or perhaps Solomon was invited, but he eventually became king and uninvited himself to place the brotherly rift firmly on Adonijah’s side).

Adonijah’s sacrifice appears to be a coronation ceremony, or else he was ordering it with the authority of a king, because his kingship seems to have been viewed as a fait accompli at this point.

Behind the scenes

Nathan turns to Bathsheba, convincing her that Adonijah’s succession puts her and her son, Solomon, in danger. Given Adonijah’s lack of support and the general violence with which succession has so far been taking place in this infant nation, his expression of concern seems quite legitimate. While primogeniture seems to be assumed, Israel/Judah is now on its fifth king and the other two eldest sons who were crowns were rather violently – and fatally – deposed. Getting rid of any other serious contenders would certainly be appealing to someone in Adonijah’s position.

Coronation of Pharamond, from Grandes Chroniques de France

What’s really interesting about the scene, if we accept Nathan’s sentiment as genuine, is that Nathan is the one who originally condemned David for his relationship with Bathsheba in 2 Samuel 12. Yet here he is, on Bathsheba’s side. However much guilt and punishment is heaped onto David for his lechery, none of the blame seems to be placed on Bathsheba (except the loss of her first child, though that is framed as a punishment for David – not for her, however much grief is splash damaged onto her by it). To me, this suggests that the author(s) did not understand Bathsheba’s participation in the affair to be consensual.

Nathan tells Bathsheba that Adonijah has become the king without David’s knowing, strongly suggesting that he as all but retired and is no longer paying any attention to the affairs of state. This inattentiveness could be why the names of inner circle are repeated so frequently – they were known because they were the ones doing all the work.

Nathan’s plan is to have Bathsheba approach David and remind him that he had promised her that Solomon would succeed him (which, if true, would explain the gaps in the courtier support for Adonijah, as well as any urgency Adonijah might feel in disposing of his little half-brother). Why then, she is to ask, is Adonijah the king? Then, while she is still speaking with David, Nathan will burst in and confirm the news.

When Bathsheba enters David’s chamber, we’re told that Abishag was in the middle of “ministering” to him (1 Kgs 1:15), which could not have been a particularly comfortable situation for Bathsheba. The scene reminds me of Lord Robert Arryn breastfeeding on his throne in Game of Thrones. Still, no mention is made of her reaction and she follows the plan. She seems to imply that the whole situation is caused by David’s failure to tell his subjects who will rule after him – a very legitimate accusation.

Finishing up, she tells David that she and Solomon will be “counted offenders” (1 Kgs. 1:22) when David is dead. It’s unclear whether she means that Adonijah will want to have them put well away from anywhere where they might cause harm, or because she intends to press for Solomon’s succession, which would make him a rebel if primogeniture is assumed without the old’s king direction. It is not explained why, if David hasn’t publicly declared Solomon his successor, Nathan knew of his apparent promise to Bathsheba.

When she is done, Nathan asks for an audience and tells David of Adonijah’s sacrificial ceremony and the support he has already gathered. He plays innocent, asking this is all part of a plan David has failed to mention to his servants (an accusation, since if this were truly what had happened, it would mean that David had put his followers in the position of having to choose between supporting a claimant against David, or failing to support David’s chosen heir).

As in Genesis 27, when Rebekah similarly secured a younger son’s inheritance, the plan works and David is moved into action.

Getting the right man for the job

David sends for Zadok, Nathan, and Benaiah, instructing them to bring Solomon to Gihon (on David’s own mule, no less!), so that Zadok and Nathan might anoint him as king. Certainly, crowning Solomon now, while David is still alive, would eliminate any confusion as to whom David supports. It would also force Adonijah to actually rebel against an anointed king if he intends to press the issue, rather than simply positioning himself as the heir apparent (as he seems to be doing, whatever Nathan and Bathsheba say). He intends to formally retire and have Solomon “be king in my stead” (1 Kgs. 1:35 – noting that he would rule over both Israel and Judah, while Adonijah only seems to have Judahite support).

My study Bible notes that Gihon would have been chosen because, while not visible from Enrogel – where Adonijah is having his festivities – is “well within earshot” (p.415). That means that when Solomon is anointed and they do the whole shtick of blowing the trumpet and proclaiming him king, it will be heard by Adonijah and all of his supporters.

They follow David’s instructions, accompanied by the Cherethites and Pelethites (who appear to be the royal guard – together with David’s mule, they are clear symbols of Solomon’s legitimacy).

As planned, Joab hears the uproar of Solomon’s coronation and asks about the noise. While he is still speaking, Jonathan, the son of Abiathar, approaches, and Adonijah assumes that he must be bringing good news. Jonathan disappoints, however, and informs Adonijah that his little brother beat him to the punch.

Adonijah’s guests, clearly realizing their mistake and the danger in which picking the losing side has placed him, tremble and scatter. Of course, whatever danger the guests are in would have been greatly multiplied for Adonijah, and he knows it. So he grasps at straws – or, rather, at the horns of the altar (my study Bible describes them as “projections resembling horns at the four corners of an altar” (p.415-426) in what appears to be a form of claiming sanctuary (a tradition that had clearly fallen out of favour by the time Exodus 21:14 was written). He refuses to release the altar until Solomon swears that he will not kill Adonijah with a sword – which seems absurdly specific, and gives Solomon a really obvious means to get away with killing Adonijah on a technicality.

Solomon agrees, but only if Adonijah is a “worthy man” (1 Kgs. 1:52). The meaning is unclear, but my New Bible Commentary says that “the term suggests a man of wealth, not one living on the king” (p.325). Whatever it means, Adonijah apparently passes the test, and he is sent home (suggesting, perhaps, that his remaining there would be compulsory).

The following chapters contain two poems (one in each), followed by a list of David’s champions. The first poem, found in 2 Samuel 22, is nearly identical to Psalm 18. There are also several similarities to the poems of Moses from Deut. 32 and Deut. 33, such as the references to rain and the comparison between God and a rock.

The first poem

The first poem is a song of thanksgiving to God for delivering David from his enemies. Given the specific mention of Saul as one of them, my impression is that the poem was meant to have been written shortly after Saul’s death.

“[God] rode on a cherub” (2 Sam. 22:11)

God is variously described as a rock, a shield, and the agent of David’s delivery. He also seems to be described as a sort of storm god, which may be an insight into early conceptions of Yahweh.

It’s all well and good until we get to the bit about why God did all these things and it becomes rather clear that David is either delusional, or he wrote this very early on:

He delivered me, because he delighted in me. The Lord rewarded me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands he recompensed me. For I have kept the ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly departed from my God. (2 Sam. 22:20-22).

You know, except that bit where God cursed him to be endlessly troubled after he stole another man’s wife and then had him killed.

Whether or not it was actually written by David, however, is highly questionable. There is, for example, a reference to the Temple in 2 Sam. 22:7, which won’t be built until after David’s death. That makes the insistence that David’s enemies were smashed because of David’s perfect righteousness all the more headscratchy, since the business with Uriah must have taken place already. It seems that the propaganda machine was well underway in Ancient Israel.

The second poem

The second poem claims to have been composed by David as his last words (like Jacob’s words in Genesis 48, or Moses’s final blessing in Deuteronomy 33). In this poem, he claims to be channeling God directly – something that David has otherwise been unable to do, relying instead on priests and prophets. In this poem, it seems that David is claiming to actually be a prophet.

My study Bible notes that this poem appears to have been corrupted and may be only a fragment. It describes the benefits of a worthy ruler, reiterates the “everlasting covenant” (2 Sam. 23:5) that God has made with David, and condemns “godless men” (2 Sam. 23:6) that must only be dealt with using violence.

It’s rather ironic, and perhaps intentional on some editor’s part, that the poem describes a just ruler as being “like rain that makes grass to sprout from the earth” (2 Sam. 23:4), given the story we just had in 2 Sam. 21 about a famine that may have been caused by a drought. Since it was determined to be Saul’s fault, the placement of this poem appears to be a little dig at Saul’s expense.

David’s champions

The second half of 2 Sam. 23 lists David’s various champions, organized into two groups: an elite force called The Thirty, and a super elite force called The Three.

The Three:

Joshebbasshebeth the Tahchemonite has the honour of being both the chief of The Three, as well as the member of David’s entourage with the most unpronounceable name. He killed eight hundred men at the same time using only a spear.

Eleazar, son of Dodo, son of Ahohi, stayed at David’s side when the Philistines attacked and the other Israelites fled. Together (though presumably with a bit of help), they managed to defeat the Philistines and win the day.

Shammah, son of Agee the Hararite, also stayed at David’s side in a similar encounter against the Philistines (or perhaps the same one). Once again, they won despite the odds.

Before we launch in to the names of The Thirty, we’re first told a story in which there was a Philistine garrison in Bethlehem, David’s home town. This may refer to the same conflict we read about in 2 Samuel 5:17-26.

Around harvest time, David wished out loud for some water from the Bethlehem well. He was overheard by the top three of The Thirty, here unnamed, who then sneaked into Bethlehem, drew water from the well, and brought it back to David. In a bit of a jerk move, David poured it on the ground instead of drinking it, saying that he was offering it to God rather than drinking “the blood of the men who went at the risk of their lives” (2 Samuel 23:17).

After that story, we get a list of The Thirty:

Abishai, Joab’s brother, is the chief of the band. Though he was able to kill three hundred people with a spear, this was not enough to make the cut for The Three.

Joab’s other brother, Asahel, is named as one of The Thirty, suggesting that either David’s champion order began really early (since Asahel was killed in 2 Sam. 2:23, before David became king of Israel), or, according to my study Bible, he may have been included “on an honorary basis” (p.410).

Benaiah, son of Jehoiada of Kabzeel, killed two “ariels” of Moab. My study Bible merely notes that the word’s meaning is unknown, though my New Bible Commentary says that the literal meaning is “lion of God” – guessing that Benaiah either fought literal lions, or else there was a kind of Moabite warrior that was “referred to metaphorically as lions” (p.314). He also fought a lion that was definitely literal, in the snow no less! Then topped it all off by killing a handsome Egyptian. The Egyptian had a spear while Benaiah had only staff, but he managed to wrestle the spear away from the Egyptian and kill him with it. This is presumably the same Benaiah who had charge of the Cherethites and Pelethites in 2 Sam. 8:18 and 2 Sam. 20:23.

Next is Elhanan, son of Dodo of Bethlehem – who is either the brother of Eleazar or there were two guys named Dodo running around.

Shammah of Harod.

Elika of Harod.

Helez the Paltite.

Ira, son of Ikkesh of Tekoa.

Abiexer of anathoth.

Mebunnai the Hushathite.

Zalmon the Ahohite.

Maharai of Netophah.

Heleb, son of Baanah of Netophah.

Ittai, son of Ribai of Gibeah, of the Benjaminites.

Benaiah of Pirathon.

Hiddai of the brooks of Gaash.

Abialbon the Arbathite.

Azmaveth of Bahurim.

Eliahba of Shaalbon.

The sons of Jashen.

Jonathan.

Shammah the Hararite.

Ahiam, son of Sharar the Hararite.

Eliphelet, son of Ahasbai of Maacah.

Eliam, son of Ahithophel of Gilo. This may be the same Eliam who is named as Bathsheba’s father in 2 Sam. 11:3.

Hezro of Carmel.

Paarai the Arbite.

Igal, son of Nathan of Zobah.

Bani the Gadite.

Zelek the Ammonite.

Naharai of Beeroth.

Joab’s armour-bearer.

Ira the Ithrite.

Gareb the Ithrite.

Uriah the Hittite. I wonder if a clever author/editor placed Uriah last on the list to draw attention to him, given the story we have involving him.

The text closes off by telling us that there were thirty-seven in all. This appears to have been an editor’s insert, perhaps attempting to explain that the name, The Thirty, was a rounding. Even so, arriving at that number involves a bit of guesswork. For example, it could be that Joab, as the commander of all David’s forces (2 Sam. 20:23), was implicitly included. With him and the assumption that Jashen had two sons, we arrive at thirty-seven.

According to my New Bible Commentary, Jonathan (#21) should be the son of Shammah, which would remove Shammah from the list. The book also suggests that The Three should be included in the number. It’s all very muddled.